Noticed
by crowleyswingman
Summary: Castiel is in a coffee shop when he meets Dean. The monster the Winchesters has been hunting stopped killing when they started keeping an eye on Cas. Is their little blue eyed friend the culprit? *Pre Season 4*
1. Coffee and Souls

**Noticed**

It's easy to notice things if nobody notices you. You can covertly witness a couple having their first quarrel. Nothing big, just a spat, really. You can also see a baby's first words being spoken. And, if you're lucky, you can view the bonding of two souls as they meet for the first time.

Castiel realized that he was not like other humans when he was young. He could see things, souls, he liked to call them. They didn't do anything extravagant, just changed colors when something life-altering happened. Like dying or meeting your soul mate.

Castiel didn't really care that he was different. He liked being different. He just didn't want to be noticed. He could see _everything_ as long as nobody paid any attention to him. Every day, he would find himself at a busy coffee shop. And every day he would just watch. He saw a lot of firsts, yes, but he also saw a lot of lasts. The last coffee a man would have with his wife. The last time a child would say 'Mama'. And, the last time two people would see eachother.

It was on a day that he saw many firsts and lasts that he was noticed. He was in the corner of the shop, a window to his left, a wall to his right. He was wearing his tan trench coat, like always, his dark brown hair sticking up in all directions. Then suddenly, he couldn't see the souls anymore. No colorful mist surrounding anybody. Castiel began to panic, thinking that he was dying. Well, until he caught sight of two emerald green eyes staring into his deep blue ones.

"Can I sit here?" a deep voice asked.

Castiel hesitated, looking the stranger up and down. He had shorter brown hair, a tight shirt, a steaming cup in one hand, and the brightest eyes Castiel had ever seen. He nodded carefully, and the man sat down.

"Sorry to intrude, but this place is packed. Couldn't find a place to sit," the man said.

Castiel looks around. "There's an empty table over there," he blurted out.

The man smirked, crinkles showing up in the corners of his eyes. "Oh well. I'm already here." He took a sip of his drink and sighed. "I'm Dean," he introduced himself, holding out his hand.

"Castiel," the other said, taking Dean's index finger between his index finger and thumb and gently placing it by Dean's cup.

Dean chuckled, shaking his head. "Nice to meet you."

"I'm not sure how it is, we've barely talked. How can you be so sure that you will be happy having met me?"

"Instinct," Dean shrugged.

The two fell silent. Castiel searched for souls again. He saw none. In fact, he no longer could tell if a baby was saying its first words, or soul mates met. All of his powers were gone.

"Strange," he muttered.

"Hm, what was that?" Dean asked.

Castiel jumped, forgetting he was there. "Nothing." Seeing that he had no purpose there, he said, "Well, I'm heading home. Goodbye, Dean."

He started to get up. "Wait!" Dean interrupted, "do you need a ride?"

Castiel shook his head. "I usually walk."

"How far away do you live?"

Castiel calculated the distance in his head. "Ten miles."

"Jesus, man. Come on, I'll give you a ride," Dean insisted.

Narrowing his eyes, Castiel shook his head. "I take this trip twice a day, I'm capable of walking."

Dean walked out with him. "Come on. Just let me give you a ride. Then you'll never see me again."

Castiel considered this, thinking hard. "Okay."

Dean smiled, saying, "Great! Here, my car is over there."

Inside the well-kept black 1967 Chevy Impala, Dean started the engine. Castiel sat awkwardly straight, not touching anything but the seat. "You can sit back, you know," Dean said. Castiel carefully reclined until his back was touching the fabric.

The whole way to Castiel's house, Dean was joking and making goofy one-liners, finally making Castiel smile. "There you go!" Dean exclaimed. "You know, you're much more attractive when you smile," he said casually, making Castiel blush.

"Here it is," Castiel said a few minutes later. The house… wasn't a house. It was more of a park.

"Dude, you live here?" Dean asked, astonished.

Castiel nodded. "With the bees."

Dean shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't leave you here." He started driving away.

"Where are you taking me?" Castiel asked.

"Back to my place. You can crash there until we figure something out. Don't worry," he said when he saw Castiel's panicked look, "my brother Sammy doesn't bite."

At Dean's apartment, Sammy finds a strange man in a trench coat sitting awkwardly on his couch. "Dean?" he called.

"Yeah?" the response came from his brother's bedroom.

"Are you aware that there is a crazy looking man on our couch?"

"Sammy," Dean sighed. "Look, the dude's a mess. He's homeless and confused. I can't just stand by and watch an innocent man struggle."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Also, you probably think he's hot."

"Besides the point," Dean barked. "Come on, man. Just until I figure something out for him?"

"Fine," Sam said. "But if I wake up and you're dead, I'll laugh."

"Nah, this guy isn't a killer. He's just like a little kitten."

"Here you go," Dean said, handing Castiel one of his AC/DC shirts and a pair of flannel pajama pants. "You can sleep in the guest room. There's a built in bathroom and everything."

"Thank you."

"No problem."

As Castiel lay down in that unfamiliar, but comfortable, bed, he smiled. For the first time, he liked being noticed.

**This is my first fanfic ever! Please be nice :) Reviews welcome**


	2. Answers

**Chapter 2: Answers**

**Castiel's POV**

I wake up, but don't open my eyes. I hear birds and children. I'm in the park? Was yesterday just a dream?

"You boys need to get him out of here!" I hear a voice yell. I open my eyes and see that I'm not in the park. Panicking, I sit up and look around. Oh, yesterday wasn't a dream.

"For all we know, this guy could be our monster!" the same voice yells.

"Ellen, I don't think he is. He just seems confused."

That was Dean's voice. Who is Ellen? What's happening?

"Sam, what do you think?" the first voice (Ellen's?) says.

There's a pause, then, "I don't know. He seems harmless, but we of all people should know tht looks can be deceiving."

I swing my legs off of the large bed and follow the voices to the living room. Dean is sitting on the couch with both feet propped up onto the coffee table. Another male (Sam?) is next to him, elbows on his knees. Then there's a female. She's standing in front of both of them, hands on hips, looking like an angry wolf.

I scratch my chin, feeling quite a bit of stubble. "Dean?" I ask, my voice coming out gravely.

He jumps. "Castiel?"

"What is going on?"

"Uh, Castiel," he starts, getting up. "This is my brother Sam, and this is a family friend, Ellen."

Ellen changes her appearance to a nicer one and says graciously, "Hi, hun. Sorry if we woke you."

I narrow my eyes and tilt my head a degree. "No, I don't believe you did. I heard birds before you began raising your voice."

"So, uh," Sam looks toward Dean.

"Castiel," Dean coughs.

"Castiel. You heard our conversation?"

"Yes," I reply. I turn to Dean and say, "And I am confused. You were talking about monsters? I am not one."

"Castiel, hun, I know you're confused, but you'll have to bear with us, 'kay?" Ellen says.

I . Twice. "Alright."

"You see, hun, Sam and Dean here are hunters. They hunt things like vampires, werewolves, ghosts, tul-"

"Enough! Enough, Ellen," Dean interrupts. "You're freaking him out."

Ellen raises an eyebrow at him but doesn't reply. My eyes are wide and my hands begin shaking. I'm in a room with a bunch of… I don't know what to call them, but it's not good. "Look, I'll just leave. I do not understand what is happening, and I don't really want to. Thank you for your hospitality." I start to go back into the guest room to change into my clothes.

"Wait!" Dean exclaims. "We're not insane. We're really hunters."

I shake my head slowly and continue backing out of the room.

Sam steps in and says, "Castiel, let us prove it."

Now that makes me stop. "Go on."

Dean sighs and begins, "Look, these things hunt and often kill humans. We hunt and kill them so they stop hunting and killing humans."

"Our mother was killed when we were young. She burned on the ceiling," Sam joins in.

"And our dad learned how to hunt and kill the things that caused that."

"So, coincidentally, we learned, too."

"And we've made a living out of it."

I mull this over in my head. I've heard a story like this from my father when I was young. Two brothers who hunted things and left chaos in their wake. "Winchesters," I whisper.

"Yea, man! That's us!" Dean says.

I back out of the room faster, shaking my head. "No, you aren't real. This is an illusion."

Ellen steps in, "When did you meet Dean, hun?"

I stop and think. Why does she want to know this? "Yesterday."

Dean shakes his head. "You met me last week, Castiel."

Tilting my head, I furrow my brow. "No, it was yesterday."

"You've been sleeping for a week," Sam insists.

"Now, sweetie," Ellen says calmly, "do you have any… powers? Or strange abilities? Bursts of speed, hearing things, feeling things?"

"I used to," I admit. "I could see souls. It all stopped when I met Dean."

Sam and Dean look at each other and Sam nods. "Here, hold this for a second," Sam says as he holds out a silver object. I take it and look it over. The trio look baffled and Sam takes the object back.

"Castiel, can you sit down for a second?" Dean asks. "I need to speak to these two real quick."

I do as I'm told and they go into another room. This gives me a chance to look around. The color is muted and boring, no decorations indicating that this apartment lived in.

Only Ellen enters the living room. She takes a seat next to me on the couch. "Castiel, how much do you sleep." Her demeanor has changed completely. She's back in wolf mode.

"Not much. Once or twice a month usually."

"Do you dream?"

"No."

"Tell me about these souls that you saw."

"I could tell if someone was having their first, last, or if they were good or bad."

She gives me a questioning look. "How?"

I pick a spot on the ceiling and stare at it. "Well, if it was a first, the soul would expand. If it was a last, it would collapse. The color varied on each person, but good ones were usually pastel colors, and bad were vibrant. I often pondered this, but I assume that it's like poisonous frogs. They have bright colors to warn predators away. I've even seen a good soul turn bad. It just kept on collapsing until it was just one spec above their head. Then it just rapidly expanded and changed colors. I knew that something was going to happen, so I followed that man home and he murdered his whole family and killed himself. That was quite an eventful night."

Ellen looks taken aback, but she nods and returns to the room.

I miss seeing souls. I think that if I could still see them, Sam's would be a very light sea foam green. He's smart and good natured. Ellen's would be violet, burning with passion. And Dean's… his would be a color that is like no other color. I'm pretty sure humans can't see this color. It just emits waves of strength and fierceness. But underneath, it's sort of… I don't know, gentle? How can something be fierce and gentle at the same time? Well, I don't make the rules, I just see them. I wonder what my soul would look like? Would it be a color that's not a color? Would it be pastel or vibrant? I want to find someone else like me to tell me what my soul looks like so I…

"Castiel!"

I jump and almost fall off of the couch. Dean is kneeling in front of me with a startled look on his face. "Dude, you were creeping me out there. You were staring at the ceiling mumbling things about color. You okay?"

I nod. "Did you reach a verdict?"

"About what?"

I exhale. "About whether or not I am a monster."

"Oh." He sits next to me on the couch. "Yea, you aren't what's been killing these people. Wait, does this mean you believe us? About monsters?"

I nod again. "So what am I?"

Sam enters the room now, laptop in the crook of one arm. "We aren't sure. I'm researching that now."

"Come on," Dean says. "Go get dressed and we'll go to IHOP or something for breakfast. You must be starved."

I shake my head. "Another thing, I don't eat."

Dean looks pointedly at Sam and Sam types something into his laptop. "Narrowed it down to 53," he says.

"Good. Let's still go out, at least I'm hungry."

I tilt my head and narrow my eyes at him. "What will I do?"

He laughs. "I dunno, sit there and stare at us awkwardly."

As we're heading out the door, me adorning another shirt and a pair of Dean's jeans that are too long and loose, I say, "I'm still confused as to why I have to come."

"Someone has to keep an eye on you," Ellen says warmly.


	3. Utterly Baffled

**Chapter 3: Utterly Baffled**

**Dean's POV**

"Where is he?!" I roar into the cell phone.

"I thought you were watching him!" Sam tensely, but calmly, replies.

Growling, I swerve a corner. "He said he had to go to the bathroom! What was I supposed to do, follow him?"

I can almost hear Sam's eye-roll. "Dean, calm down. We'll find him. Besides, he couldn't have gotten that far on foot."

I don't respond immediately, distracted by a few sharp corners I have to turn. "You never know how fast a monster like this can run," I growl deeply.

"I thought you said he wasn't a monster," comes a new voice, Ellen's.

"Yeah, well," I sigh, "he must be some kind of clever creature to give us the slip."

"Concentrate on your driving, I'll call back if we spot him."

I hang up and throw the cell into the passenger seat of the Impala. Somehow, we lost Castiel at IHOP and now I'm driving like a madman around this small town in Nebraska. Good thing I have this great car; if I were in any other vehicle right now, I'd be in a crumpled heap in a pile of twisted metal.

A honking horn rips me from my thoughts. Now is not the time for thinking about my baby. Now is the time for catching this killer.

On my third time circling the town, I get an amazing idea. I make a U-turn and speed toward the park. Why didn't I think of this before?

I find the park easily, remembering the path from a week ago. Once there, I pull up in a parking spot and hop out. I run around screaming for him, hoping that he's just very, very confused and very, very human. However, no such luck.

I curse under my breath and go back to the Impala. What if Castiel _is_ the killer? Despite my intuitions, I could be wrong. Hell, I'm wrong most of the time. I shouldn't have trusted him. Even if he isn't a monster, he's probably insane.

Miserably, I drive back into town. I decide to drive around one more time. Past the antique store, around the bakery, by the cop shop… The coffee shop. I smack myself in the forehead. Now this is more than likely! He said he made the trip twice a day. Maybe he got confused and went back to his routine.

I arrive at the cozy shop and look in the window. I burst through the door and look around frantically. I give a sigh of relief when I see him in the exact place I met him. I stalk over to him and sit down.

He looks confused for a moment, searching around for something. Then, his eyes land on me. His eyes get wide then he tilts his head. "D-Dean?"

"Yea, why did you run off?"

He sighs as if sad and shakes his head. "I saw souls again and I thought… Maybe they would stay if I came back here. But, as soon as you showed up…" He trails off.

"Come on, let's go," I usher him out to my car.

I call Sam and tell him that I found Castiel. For a little while, we ride in silence. Then, suddenly, Castiel turns his head and gives me an accusing glare.

"Why are you taking the souls away?" he asks.

I sputter. "W-what?"

"It's you. I can always see souls when I'm out of your sight. You're doing this. Tell me why."

"I'm not taking… souls away, man." I shake my head and continue, "I don't know what's happening."

He looks taken aback, but seems to believe me. "Alright. So, Cas, tell me about these souls."

"Cas?"

I laugh nervously. "Uh, yea. 'Castiel' is kind of a mouthful. Is it okay if I call you Cas?"

He looks me in the eye, mouths the word 'Cas' over and over, until he finally nods. "I like it," he smiles. "I believe these are called nicknames. I've never had one before."

"Well, today's your lucky day. Now, tell me about these souls."

He gets a blissful look on his face. "They're beautiful. I haven't really told anybody, only Ellen, really. They can be all different colors, all depending on your personality. Some angry people I've seen have a plum colored soul. Oh, but they weren't evil, the color was still pastel. Plum is a strong color that is full of anger and passion. The lighter purples, like violet, say softer words, but are still passionate.

"It's the vibrant colors you have to watch out for. They scream words, not gently whisper them. Like I was explaining to Ellen, my prediction is that they mimic poisonous frogs. Do you understand how they work? They warn predators away with bright colors. Fascinating…"

He spaces out. Like completely. His eyes are glazed over and he's barely breathing.

"I think your soul would be beautiful."

I almost crash.

Chuckling, I sputter, "What was that? My soul would be… beautiful? Dude look at me, I'm as manly as it gets!"

Cas looks over at me with an incredulous look on his face. "There's nothing feminine about the word 'beautiful'. It just means a wonder to behold. Yes, I'm sure a woman's face can be a wonder to behold-"

_Not just her face._

"- but so can a star, or an animal. A whole plethora of things can be beautiful."

I nod. "Good point."

"But you don't believe me."

I blink. "Yes, I do."

He shakes his head by a minute degree. "No, you're doing that thing that you tend to do when you lie."

"And what is that?"

"Your brow furrows and your lips… do the weird scrunch-y thing."

I laugh. "The blue steel?"

"If that is what you'd like to call it, then yes." I smile and then give him the blue steel and he exclaims, "Yes! That thing! You do it often, are you aware?"

I chuckle, returning my gaze to the road. "Fully."

"So you make that face when you're lying on purpose?"

"I'm not lying!"

He grins. "Then explain why your face is doing the 'blue steel'."

Grumbling, I turn into the parking lot of the apartment. We've been here for a month, hunting this creature. It skins its victims alive and keeps them alive long enough to walk into a public place to scream for help. Kinda creepy, ain't it? Yea, that's why we're here. I don't think Cas is capable of this, though.

"Come on," I say, getting out of the car. Cas follows me up to the third floor apartment, not speaking a word. Sammy's already here, probably researching. "Sammy, we're here!" I call.

"Dean!" I hear him yell. There is a series of crashes as he emerges into the living room, laptop in the crook of his elbow like always. "I figured it out!"

Castiel looks excited for a moment, "Did you figure out what I am?"

"Uh, no," Sam says. Cas looks crestfallen. "But I figured out what we're hunting!"

"Great! What is it?"

He looks apprehensive. "There's more than one."

I give a heavy sigh.

"You know how all of the victims are young white males?" he continues. When I nod, he says, "Well, there's some folklore here in Nebraska. It says, 'Of all the legends connected with Nebraska, The most chilling of all the folklore talks told in Nebraska is the fable of Rawhide Creek. Though are many variations to the story the common theme is the murder of an Indian by a young white man. Once the tribe hears of their loss friends of the Indian then capture the young man, skin him alive, torture, mutilate him, and eventually kill him. Some feature or landmark near the scene is afterward called "Rawhide" in the victim's memory. As far as it is known, the story first appeared in the Frontier Guardian Newspaper in Kanesville, Iowa in May of 1850, naming the victim as one of the two sons of a Mr. Green."

I nod approvingly. "Sure does sound like some angry spirits."

"Yea, and get this," Sam exclaims. "Mr. Green was complaining of feeling like his skin was ripped off moments before dying. Also, the other son was seeing angry Native Americans weeks before he perished from internal bleeding."

Cas looks startled. "So there are angry ghosts running around killing people?"

"Not exactly," Sam explains. "My prediction is that the ghosts of these Native Americans are killing the descendants of Green. So, we need to find these remaining people and make sure nothing happens to them."

"Awesome!" clapping my hands together, I stride toward the kitchen. "Let's find the graves of these asshats and salt and burn their bones."

"Well, there's one flaw, Dean."

"What's that?"

"The killers of Green were burned."

Stopping in the middle of taking a swig from a bottle of Jack Daniels, I set the bottle down. "So what are we going to burn?"

Sam looks a little unsure, but says, "The tree they were burned on. It was a huge cottonwood. We could try that."

_Great,_ I think. _A huge tree. _I take a huge gulp of the alcohol. I'm gonna need this.

**How was that? This is based on a real story called the Rawhide Creek fable. I did a little research :) ****Reviews/favs/follows welcome! Thanks! **


	4. Let it Burn!

**Chapter 4: Let it Burn!**

**Castiel's POV**

"Well, boys, I'm off to the Roadhouse," sighs Ellen.

Sam gets up to give her a hug. "Thanks for your help."

"I'll give you a call if we find out what Castiel is," she says, wrapping one arm around Dean.

I enter the room and tilt my head. "You're leaving?" I ask her.

"Eves dropping again," she says, shaking her head. "Well, Castiel, yes. I'm going back to my diner."

"But aren't you going to help?"

She laughs coldly. "According to these two, I'm not experienced enough to deal with a few angry spooks."

"We're starting a fire in the middle of the woods while fighting spirits," Dean deadpans. "I'm not even sure if we should bring Cas along."

I tilt my head further. "I'm coming with you."

"Boy, you sure are adorable when you do that," Ellen coos, giving me a hug. "Be safe, hun, and if you do so much as harm a hair on one of these boys' heads, I'll hunt you down," she fiercely whispers in my ear. Then she steps back, smiling warmly as if she didn't say anything. "Goodbye, boys. See y'all soon."

"Bye, Ellen," the brothers say in unison.

When the door closes, Dean claps his hands together. "Let's go burn a tree!"

{Several hours later}

Dean stops pacing the room for a moment, only to take a long drink straight out of the whiskey bottle. He resumes pacing, looking down at his feet. I follow him with my eyes. "So, Cas, have you ever shot a gun before?" he asks me.

"I don't believe so, no," I reply, never taking my eyes off him.

"Great," he says under his breath. "Sam, give him the run-down on how to use a gun."

He reaches for the bottle, but Sam snatches it up first. "No more. You can't be drunk when we're on a hunt."

Dean plops down on the couch next to me, grumbling about his lack of alcohol at the moment.

"Anyways, Castiel-"

"Cas," I interrupt.

"Hm?"

I tilt my head. "I'd like to be called Cas."

The corners of Sam's lips turn down a little in confusion but he continues explaining. "Cas, you hold a gun like this," he demonstrates, putting one hand on the handle and the other cupping it. "Then, one finger pulls the trigger." He doesn't demonstrate.

"How do you aim?"

Sighing, he explains, "You point the barrel at the target."

I nod once, putting my hand out. "May I try?"

"NO!" they both yell at once.

I jump up, startled by the sudden outburst. A blade falls out of the sleeve of my trench coat into my hand. I raise it, looking in all directions, as if I've done this before.

"Dude, what the hell?!" Dean exclaims, looking at me in astonishment.

"I… don't know," I reply honestly. "I've never seen this weapon before."

Dean gets up and is by my side in one step. He disarms me, saying, "You don't know how to use a gun, but you carry around a huge knife in your sleeve?"

"Please refrain from raising your voice at me, Dean."

"Cut the crap, man!" he roars. "I'm tired of you playing dumb! You know what you are, so tell us! Silver didn't affect you, but we haven't tried salt. I'll torture you in as many ways possible if you don't tell me right now what you-"

"Dean stop."

"-are. I'll send your tiny ass back to wherever you-"

"Dean!"

Now that finally shuts him up. By this point, I'm backed into a corner, Dean's face looming mere inches above mine, his chest heaving. "What?" he snaps at Sam, not taking his gaze away from me.

"That's an angel blade."

"A what?"

"An angel blade. Castiel is an angel."

I blink multiple times. Angel… No. I'm not an angel. I…

Maybe. I don't remember anything before a few months ago. Is that what angels do? Do they just appear and see souls?

"There's no such thing as angels, Sam."

"There's one standing right in front of you."

Dean turns back to me. "Where are your wings, then? If you're an angel, don't angels have wings?"

"I-I don't know," I say in a panicked voice. "I've never noticed wings."

Dean turns back to Sam. "Ha, not an angel."

Sam shakes his head. "Then what creature carries around an _angel blade?_"

"Maybe it's not an angel blade."

"But-"

There's a knock at the door. Dean quickly hides the blade in his jacket and strides over to the door, pulling it open. A bloody human-shaped figure steps in. Its skin is removed. Dean leaps back, appalled. The figure opens its bloody mouth, croaking out, "Won't you help me? Please help me." With its voice gaining strength, it begins to scream, "Help! Help me! WILL SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME?"

It collapses.

"Shit," Dean curses. "They know we're after them. We need to go, quickly."

I faint.

{About an hour later}

I wake up in the back seat of the Impala. The two front seats are unoccupied. I exit the car, terrified that something happened to Dean.

Stumbling through a few trees, I find the brothers at the base of a huge tree. It easily stands a few hundred feet tall, its base at least twenty feet wide.

The brothers are putting salt around the base, pouring liquid after. I come up to stand behind Dean, who apparently doesn't expect me, because he turns around and promptly punches me.

My head snaps back, but the rest of my body stays still. I straighten my neck and the joints make popping sounds. "Oh come on," Dean whines, "that is _not _normal."

"Ow," I say tentatively.

Sam and Dean look at each other, shrug, sigh, and go back to business.

I watch them from the stump of another tree a few yards away. As Dean lights a match, Sam comes over to me and hands me a gun. "Here, they might try to fight back."

Just as expected, when the inferno comes to life, many silhouettes appear. Some are wearing feathers in their hair, some have ponytails. A loud noise rings out, and one disappears. "Shoot, Cas, shoot!" Sam yells.

I lift the gun and aim at one approaching Dean from behind. I pull the trigger, a loud noise rings out, and the spirit disappears. I repeat the process with every spirit that gets within twenty feet of Dean, not missing once.

"This tree is gonna take forever to burn!" Dean yells over the gunshots.

"We just have to keep shooting!" Sam yells back.

"Yea, but how lo- AH!"

Dean is pushed into the fire.

All I see is blue. Bright, blazing blue. I am faintly aware of a tearing sensation in my back and a slight burn on my skin as I reach into the fire, but nothing else. Somehow, I incinerate the tree, effectively getting rid of the spirits.

I see Dean on the ground below me, unrecognizable and screaming. I gently put a hand on his forehead, whispering to him. A blue light shines all around us, blinding me. When my sight recovers, there's a very alive, very naked Dean in the other's place. I shed my coat and hand it to him.

He takes it carefully, wrapping it around himself, never looking away from my eyes. Then, it's his turn to faint. I straighten myself, looking back at Sam. "You… You're an angel," he gasps.

**A/N: Well, that took forever. Do you like this chapter? I'm a little unsure and unsatisfied but whatever. This isn't the end, but I'm going to be working on another fic for a bit, kay? **

**Please review! I'd love to hear what you guys have to say!**

**-Gellie**


	5. Blood and Stitches

**Chapter 5: Blood and Stitches**

**Dean's POV**

**A/N: Alright I'm back. The other story didn't work out… I'm going to try again, but I'll alternate writing for this story and the other story. I want to thank Katzbac because I was going to take a longer break but I saw her review and I was like "Oh, Imma write!" So yeah, here I am. Hope you enjoy!**

"Sam, he still hasn't woken up."

Keeping my eyes closed, I lightly feel around with my fingertips to get an idea of where I am. I'm on soft fabric. Yea, that helps.

"Don't worry, Cas. I'm sure he'll wake up soon."

Where am I? Who is talking? It sounds like two men. One has a deeper voice than the other gravelly one. Also, the gravelly one sounded closer.

"What if I killed him, Sam? That would mean I didn't do my job."

Who am I? Was I dying? What if I'm already dead?

"You didn't kill him. He's still breathing and has a steady pulse."

_My name is… Dean. I'm Dean. And I hunt. What do I hunt? Black. Black eyes. Demons. _I try to remember.

"I may have put him in a comatose state."

What happened? Why does Cas think he put me in a coma? _Cas! That's it!_

"That's unlikely."

"Sammy!"

I remember now. I had fallen into a fire, and the next thing I remember, Cas was handing me his coat.

"Dean!?"

I'm sitting straight up, eyes darting between two very concerned men. A stabbing pain ignites in my ribcage. My hand flies up, pressing against the bare flesh. I lay back down, groaning. "What the hell," I hiss, squeezing my eyes shut.

"Dean, my apologies. We had… complications. You- you nearly died."

I open my eyes to see Cas on the edge of my bed. "What d'ya mean?" They don't answer. "Sam, what does he mean? He said I almost died." They look at each other. "Answer me right now or I swear I'll-"

"You did die."

Sam smacks Cas on the shoulder, coming to sit on the other side. "Dude, you could've broke it to him gently."

I blink a few times. This is some weird dream. I'm just resting after falling in that fire. Yea, that's all.

"Dean," Sam sighs. "You fell into a fire. Cas dove in and restored your body. You ended up dying, and Cas did some freaky stuff to get you back." He glances to my chest, wincing a little.

I look down carefully, fearing what I might see. There are symbols and lines carved deep into my chest. The edges are burned, almost black. Cas tentatively reaches over, running a steady finger over a horizontal line on the top of the collage. It starts oozing blood immediately, covering my chest in this red liquid.

"I see my ribcage," I say in a dazed manner. "I'm gonna pass out."

Sam jumps up, putting both hands on my shoulders. "Woah there, man. Stay with us, stay awake. I-it's not that bad."

"I think I want to wake up now."

Sam looks at Cas and mouths something. Cas shrugs and places two fingers on my left temple, muttering something in a foreign language.

Pain shoots through my whole body. I look pleadingly up to Sam, eyes closing. Why was he letting this happen? My body starts convulsing and Sam just watches with a pained look in his eyes.

The last thing I see is the duo leaving the room, Sam giving me one more fleeting glance.

My screams fill the silence.

Everything goes black.

I wake up.

Nothing has changed, except that now I wake up alone.

I look down, seeing the symbols. The edges are a little more blackened, the lines more prominent. "So this isn't a dream," I mutter to myself.

Dried blood covers most of my chest and the bare mattress below me. I carefully swing my legs over the edge of the bed, hissing at my bare feet hit the ice-cold floor. Instantly, I get a head rush. I stumble towards the door, whole body stiff from laying on that bed for God knows how long. My feet somehow manage to carry me towards the door and my hand turns the nob. I emerge into a small, unfamiliar living room. I lean my shoulder on the door, taking in my surroundings.

"Good, you're awake," a more than familiar voice says.

I search for my brother, seeing him at a desk by a large window. His laptop sits in front of him, the bright screen illuminating his face in the dimly lit room. "Sammy?"

He stands and strides to me, places one of my arms around his shoulders, and leads me to a couch. "Here you go," he says as he dumps me on the firm cushions, "do you want anything?"

"Yea. I'd like some wine, oh, 1944 would be nice. Also, could I get some aged cheeses? And, of course, some freakin' explanations," I stress the last word to make sure I get my point across.

Sam worries his lip, rolling it between his teeth. He looks away then back at my eyes. "Didn't I already tell you? You died and Cas brought you back."

"No. No way I died," I shake my head incredulously.

"Yea, you kinda did. Well, as long as your definition of dying is no heartbeat for twelve straight hours." His voice begins to rise.

He calms down after a few deep breaths. "You really had me worried, Dean. I couldn't- I… I wouldn't be able to go on without you, you know? And for twelve gut-wrenching hours I thought I was going to have to. Then Cas pulled some crazy stunt and brought you back." He looks away, laughing bitterly. After a moment, he snaps his head back at me. "Are you feeling… weird? Can you feel any differences in strength at all?"

"Other than being extremely weak and hungry, no."

"Great!"

His exclamation makes me jump, causing pain to shoot through every single nerve. "Oh, God, Dean. You're bleeding again! Don't get any on the couch, I'll be right back."

He returns moments later with the first-aid. "I guess we don't need those anymore," he says as he begins to thread a needle.

For the next half hour, I'm on the couch with a bottle of hard liquor yelping every time Sam inserts the (very large) needle into my scorched flesh. "Jesus, can't you take a break for a minute? This hurts, like, really bad."

Sam sits back on his heels, resting the needle at his side. "Wow, it must be really bad for you to complain."

"Shut up," I mutter. "Hey," I say after thinking for a moment. "Couldn't Cas just heal me?"

Sam shakes his head, "He said that it would be ineffective."

"Oh." I take another sip out of the bottle. "Where is he anyway?"

"Probably the coffee shop."

"Oh," I say again. "Why?"

Sam chuckles. "He said, and I quote, 'I feel safe there, Sam. It is better than waiting for a dead man to wake up again'."

It's my turn to chuckle. I finish the alcohol and hiccup. "Alright, Sam," my words come out slurred. "Patch me up."

**A/N: Well, that took two days. I'm going to sleep now.**

**Night, henchmen. **


End file.
